


Love Among the Marinara

by BiPagan



Category: Kim Harrison - The Hollows series
Genre: Biting, F/F, First Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-19
Updated: 2009-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-04 16:08:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiPagan/pseuds/BiPagan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rachel throws Tomatopalooza and realizes denial is not just a river in Egypt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Among the Marinara

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ellenm](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ellenm).



> Much love and appreciation goes to taeli and toasteraviator, more than betas, my co-authors and dear friends.

A display of Christopher Moore's Bloodsucking Fiends was staring at me from the bookstore window as I walked past on my way home with party decorations. It made me think of my best friend and roommate, Ivy Tamwood, who happens to be a vampire. Back when my mom was still a child, vampires and the rest of the supernatural races were in hiding from the human population. These supernatural beings, which include witches like myself, are called Inderlanders. We would have likely stayed in the broom closet, so to speak, except that some scientists, who were intelligent but not quite wise, started futzing with genetic manipulation and ended up creating what is now known as the T4 Angel virus.

The virus attached itself to a genetically modified tomato and quickly spread to every nook and cranny of existence killing off one quarter of the human population. Though only Inderlanders who had any human genetics in their family tree were susceptible to the virus, all Inderlanders realized we needed to step up to the plate and help out as we were able. In an act that is now called "The Turn," we vampires, weres, witches, and elves outed ourselves to the remaining humans, who were shocked to see we held jobs in all manner of fields.

My name is Rachel Morgan and I live in a world afraid of tomatoes. So of course I was throwing a tomato party at my home, which happens to be an abandoned church bought by my roommate, Ivy. She's made her desires perfectly clear: she wants me as more than a friend. But I'm not a lesbian, I don't like women all that much as friends even. At least I thought I didn't until Ivy bit me. It was incredible, and now whenever I see her I have to remind myself that I like guys. Yup, that's right. Only men. I've certainly never ever woken up from a hot dream still tingling from the touch of Ivy's lips on my skin. Nope. Never happened. I don't know what you're talking about. Let's move on, shall we?

The genetically modified tomatoes which caused the problem have been eliminated, but most humans still see tomatoes as the fruit of death. I understand their fear but I could never give up such a tasty food, which is why I decided to have a tomato party featuring lots of taboo Italian food covered in rich tomato sauces. Since I had scheduled the party to start in the evening I thought I would have plenty of time, but like always, decorating took longer than I had anticipated. The guest list was mostly nocturnal Inderlanders who wouldn't be arriving for a while, but a few daring human friends would be arriving earlier, so I barely had time to jump in the shower.

Ivy was still asleep when I got in and would almost until the party started, I'd have to get her help last minute for the tomatopalooza party once I was clean. I really did need to hurry, but a hot shower is something to be enjoyed. As I stepped into the bathroom the citrus of all of my products assaulted me. I'd been making sure to use nothing but citrus scented bath products for a while ever since Ivy told me it blocked her olfactory senses. You are probably wondering why that matters. Well, doesn't food taste better, don't you get hungry, when it smells good? Exactly. It seems I'd been smelling extremely delicious as of late and that just had to stop, so I had every citrus product I could find scattered around my bath and bedroom. I'd flipped the radio to a classic rock station before getting in with the hopes that I'd get out before the third power ballad. I unceremoniously stripped down and stepped into the shower, and turned the water on as hot as I could stand it. I let the water beat down, massaging the kinks out of my sore back. I lathered up the sponge with my mango orange body wash, bent over, and worked the sponge up my oh so pale calves and thighs. Stealing time for myself, I rubbed the soap up my stomach and chest, stopping to pinch and kneed my ample breasts. I turned to rinse the soap from my front, letting the scalding water stream down my body. It reminded me of how my blood felt pouring from my skin when Ivy bit me. My hands followed the water down my body washing away the slick soap, but lingered between my thighs. The slickness there wasn't washing away so easily. Perhaps the showerhead would help with that. As I reached up to remove the showerhead the third power ballad started, I'd been in there too long, Ivy would be up soon. I reluctantly turned the water colder to stop myself before I went too far. I quickly lathered my hair with my grapefruit shampoo and rinsed under the biting chill of the water that raised goose bumps over my skin and pulled my nipples almost painfully taut.

I shut off the water and hopped out of the shower to dry myself with my warm, fluffy towel. I applied my lemon scented deodorant, tangerine body spray, and favorite perfume, hoping that would be enough to keep Ivy's desires at bay. Some days, after adding all those scents, I feel like I should be floating in sangria, but it's all worth it when Ivy walks in the room and her face goes from strained restraint to gleeful in moments; it's awe inspiring to watch. I don't know why citrus works to keep Ivy and every other vampire from wanting to get a taste of me, but I'm willing to dip myself in lime juice every day if that's what it takes to keep me from being tempted to give in to Ivy.

I dressed as Heart was singing "Alone", and opened the door to clear out the steam from the room. I use to take so much time to fix my curly hair, but recently I was clued in to a few secrets: to brush my hair before showering and towel dry it afterwards. Letting the curls go their own way was the key. I bent over to apply my kiwi clementine scented hair gel upside down, and kept singing as I flipped my hair back over my shoulder. "Till now, I always got by on my own."

"I never really cared until I met you," Ivy's voice joined in from the doorway.

I tried to scream but she took my breath away. I mean my breath was taken away by the surprise. Yeah, that's it, from the surprise. It wasn't the way she looked as she leaned her tall lithe frame against the doorframe that took my breath away. Her smooth as silk black Asian hair looked stunning even though she just woke up. I hated her a little right there for being able to fall out of bed and still look so gorgeous. She just stood there grinning like a Cheshire cat as I scolded her, "The Turn take you! Don't sneak up on me like that."

She just giggled to herself as she handed me a cup of freshly brewed coffee. "I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do for the party?"

She makes a mean Bloody Mary so I sent her away to make a punchbowl of it and to set up the sound system that I can't make heads or tails of.

The party was amazing, if I do say so myself. Everyone was dancing and eating and singing and eating and did I mention the eating? At some point when I'm sure I was tipsy, Ivy and I ended up on the couch together. I remember being sweaty from dancing. My throat was hoarse from laughing, drinking all night, the acid from the tomatoes, or maybe all of the above. Everyone showed themselves out of the church as we waved them goodbye, too exhausted to move. Ivy had been playing with my hair, but now that we were alone her fingers moved down my neck, past my shoulders to my hand. Such a simple touch, but I loved it. What was it about her attention that made it so priceless? When she stroked her finger up my arm and back again, I felt as if all her energy and thoughts were being focused into this one action, this one moment. Was it a conscious act? Could she feel my heart beat faster to the point that each breath felt heavy in my chest? Why was my heart beating so quickly? Was it the excitement of not knowing what she would do next and how I would react, or the fact that I didn't know if I even wanted to stop her?

"You smell so good." Her voice felt like a caress. All the dancing must have caused my scent to overpower the citrus. I felt the urge to touch her, hold her, with more than just the warmth of our friendship. My hand drifted up to the side of her head; fingers stroked down from the top of her ear and along her jaw line. I turned to her and kissed her. She made a small surprised sound before pulling away. "I don't want to be hurt by you, Rachel. I won't be content with a quick fling." She looked like the walking wounded, I could tell how weak she'd grown from lack of attention. I'd neglected her in more ways than one, I'd stopped touching her altogether because I feared her bite, something as intrinsic to her as magic is to me. In that instant, I wanted more than anything to take the hurt from her eyes. I couldn't let her die a little bit more each day because I was too chicken shit to touch her. "Follow me." It was definitely easier to ignore my common sense while under the dual influences of alcohol and Ivy's attention.

We only made it as far as the kitchen counter. The sun was beginning to creep over the horizon as her lips claimed mine. Every bit of my skin felt sensitive to her touch and I felt drunk on something other than alcohol. Everything started happening so quickly. Before I knew it I was lying on the counter with my skirt pushed up over my hips and my shirt torn open. For a moment I wondered how that happened, but when an orgasm screamed through me so powerfully I'm sure I woke the block I didn't care how she did it, I just wanted her to do it more. Ivy was bent over in front of me, continuously licking at my clit. One hand on my breast, the other down her own pants; she did not let up as I was rocked by shockwaves of pleasure. I reached out and touched her head as she moved slightly down to my thighs, not sure if I wanted to encourage her or to stop her. Ivy's hand moved furiously against her own clit as she bit down on my inner thigh. _BLISS_.

I came to awareness with my hand on her head, stroking her hair. So soft. So gentle. She lapped at my thigh like a contented cat. I had never seen her so languid. When she lifted her head, I saw blood on my thigh and her mouth like smeared lipstick. "You know this is where I cook my spells. How are we going to get this clean?"

"Let's worry about it tomorrow." She kissed me and the dual tastes of my blood and cum mixed in my mouth. She grinned and kissed a trail of blood down my neck before helping me to my feet and escorting me to her bedroom where I didn't worry about anything for a very long time. I learned a few things that night. I learned that Ivy's fingers are beautifully long and hit just the right spot inside me. She was able to make me scream in pleasure using only two fingers and the thumb of one hand. Add to that her other hand, mouth, and fangs and she taught me the perfect combination to create a pleasure drugged Rachel. We rubbed against each other's legs, kissing and touching, until we were practically riding each other's knees to exhaustion. I know it's trite but her lips really are softer than anything I'd ever felt. I found such glory in the way she pushed me toward pleasure interlacing it with the pain from her teeth. She bit the tender skin at the crook of my neck, my arms, all over my body. I imagined what marks her fangs would leave on my pale skin, and I was overtaken by the desire to do the same to her with my teeth. I had her nipple in my mouth at that moment so I tested out my thought there and then by scraping and pulling on her nipple before filling my mouth with her breast and biting down. It felt so ferocious, so primal; I liked it. She was oh so sensitive there. I nibbled down her side, flipped her onto her stomach, bit her pert ass and got just as pleasant a response from that as from her breasts. I wanted to explore every inch of her body, find every spot that made her moan. I kissed up her spine as I crawled up her back and slid my hands around her body. I teased her breast with one while rubbing her clit with the other, but it wasn't until my teeth reached the back of her neck that I heard Ivy scream out her pleasure to the world.

We'd only slept a few hours before we woke and Ivy asked me to go with her on a picnic breakfast. I thought she was crazy as she kept riding her motorcycle toward the setting sun. I loved the feeling of my arms wrapped around her waist, my fingers wandering playfully between her pants and skin. Not that I could with those tight clothes, but she warned me not to go further, she didn't want to crash the bike. We rode deeper and deeper into the countryside until there were no longer any souls in sight. She pulled to the side and laid out the blanket and food. The changing color of the sky was gorgeous against my ginger locks. I know this because she told me so. She had asked me to use the orange soap before we left and kept glancing at me with a smirk cemented to her face. I have to admit, I was on cloud nine too. The food was exquisite of course, Ivy grew up rich and her tastes tend to run to that vein. By the time everything was packed and ready to go home I wasn't, I wanted to take this opportunity to fulfill a fantasy of mine. As she was strapping a package to the cycle, I came up behind her, wrapped my arms around her, and started undoing the zipper to her leather pants. I wanted to touch her like she touched me. I wanted to do for her what she had done for me. How hard could it be? I knew what I liked so I'd do that to her.

I had her sitting on the cycle and it was my turn to bend over her prone body. Finally, I understood her fascination with scent. Had I been wearing blinders my whole life? She smelled like a Goddess of the night. The world seemed to suddenly open up for me the first time I was between her legs. "Rachel, I ache for you. Don't ever stop."

And I haven't stopped. It's been a year since that first time. I hid a book under her pillow. She didn't understand the humor in the title nor the reason for the gift. But, honestly, how could I ever forget the day I let my guard down?


End file.
